Scars
by MissSlothy
Summary: Steve's reminded that scars can be both mental and physical. Contains references to Season 6 Episode 25 ' My Desire is Only for the Chief'. Relationship is McDanno i.e m/m. Originally posted on Archive of our Own.


Steve's on a flight back from Maui when it happens.

The plane is a Cessna Citation CJ4 to be exact. He knows this because he's a plane nerd (always has been, long before he joined the SEAL teams and learnt to fly) and it makes sense to always know as much as possible about the equipment you're using on an operation.

Not that this is an operation, not in the military sense. The plane belongs to the Governor. She'd asked him and the Five-0 team to investigate a drug smuggling ring that had been set up in Maui. They'd need to get in there fast, hitting multiple locations at the same time. Getting the whole team there at the same time had been a logistical challenge – until the Governor had offered her plane and pilot.

It's been a long, exhausting day but a successful one. The sun's already setting as they take off from Maui. The cabin of the plane is filled with a soft orange glow from the sunset as the plane tilts away from the island and the pilot heads towards Oahu.

The cabin seats eight, with cream-coloured leather seating and an obscene amount of legroom. Lou's making the most of it: he's taken the single seat with his back to the cockpit, which allows him to stretch out his legs down the aisle. Eyes closed, he's wearing pair of headphones and he's humming quietly to himself.

Danny's sitting opposite Steve. Chewing at his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed, all his attention is on his phone. Using both thumbs, he's sending a message. There's a pause, he hits sends. Then he sits back in his seat, all his focus still on the screen.

_Grace, _Steve decides, measuring the level of concern on his friend's face. Grace is away on the mainland with Rachel visiting colleges. Grace, bless her heart, has been sharing every moment with Danny. She knows her Dad so well, understands how much he wants – _needs _her – to be happy with whichever college she chooses.

Danny's cell pings, announcing the arrival of another text. His frown grows as he scans the message. Then his thumbs start moving again, painstakingly writing out another message.

It crosses Steve's mind to say something: Danny's worry is hanging like a dark cloud over him. It's making his own heart ache. He dismisses the idea; their usual combination of humour and sarcasm isn't going to help right now. They're both exhausted, too on edge. He's got other tried and tested methods for soothing a tired and worried Danny. Grilled steak and cold beer usually works wonders. Or maybe he'll cajole Danny into cooking for him. His kitchen is Danny's happy place.

Mentally cataloguing the contents of his fridge – he always has steak in for Danny, just in case – Steve turns his attention to the rest of his team. Adam's taken the single seat at the back of the cabin. Eyes closed, arms crossed, chin resting on his chest, he's snoring gently. In sleep his face is relaxed. Steve's grateful to see it: for months after Kono left Adam had been lost, heart-broken. Gradually he's moving on, building himself a new life.

Nodding to himself, Steve turns his attention to the final two seats in the cabin. Tani and Junior are sitting side-by-side. Junior's dozing, his head resting on Tani's shoulder. Tani's staring out of the window, deep in thought. There's a small smile on her lips.

Steve quashes the feeling of bitter jealously that's threatening to creep up on him. He loves these kids. Junior and Tani deserve this. Life's too short to spend it alone.

Steve snorts inwardly at his own advice. He's such a fucking hypocrite. Dragging his eyes away from Tani and Junior, his gaze drifts back towards Danny. His heart sinks at frown on Danny's face. He desperately wants to reach out and smooth the frown away, to stroke Danny's cheek and tell him that Grace will be okay, she's a clever kid, a good kid with a huge heart who will charm everyone she meets. Of course she will: she takes after her old man.

He closes his eyes against a sudden rush of emotion. Swallowing hard he orders himself to breathe. Just _breathe _for crying out loud.

Gradually he gets himself under control. _You're just tired, _he tells himself, trying to justify his feelings. _Yeah, right, _another voice in his head mocks. _You don't have feelings for Danny at all. You're just tired._

Eyes still closed, he slinks further down into his chair. Gritting his teeth, he pushes the feelings into the furthest corner of this mind and mentally turns his back on them. They carry on mocking him as he walks away from them but finally they fade until they're almost silent again.

Almost.

He's exhausted and that wins out, dragging him towards sleep. His last thought as he drifts into unconsciousness is that he's gonna talk to the Governor and get his team more vacation time. Danny should be out there in California with Gracie, not attacking his cell phone with his goofy thumbs.

H50H50H50

Steve's jerked back to consciousness. Heart-thudding, he opens his eyes.

There's an alarm going off in the cockpit – it's that which has woken him up. The cabin's half-lit by the light from the cockpit. A quick scan around him proves it's woken up everyone else as well.

The alarm shrieks again. Steve's heartbeat ramps up another level. Panic uncoils deep in his stomach. It slithers into life, making him shiver in reaction.

"Bird strike!" the pilot shouts back to them, sounding surprisingly cheerful. "Belt yourselves in," he adds, raising his voice as the alarm shrieks again, "this baby can fly just fine on one engine but it ain't gonna be pretty when we land."

Steve nods. The pilot's right, this plane is designed to fly with just one engine, for a short distance. A glance at his watch tells him they're probably on the approach to Honolulu Airport so there's no reason for them to worry. But as he tries to smile, to reassure his team who understandably look worried, another shiver racks him from head to toe.

Instinctively his gaze slides towards Danny. Danny's pale, his eyes dark and huge in his face. Looking into Danny's eyes, it's like being struck in the chest with a sledgehammer. The fear in them triggers something deep inside Steve's brain. The panic unfurling in his stomach flares, robbing him of air.

Gasping, he tries to get in more oxygen. He chokes, coughs, tries again. The alarm shrieks again and this time it echoes in his head. Wincing, his eyes dart around, overloading with information. Worried faces stare back at him. The protective streak inside him starts churning. Bile threatens at the back of his throat.

"Babe?"

Blinking, Steve focuses. Danny's leaning forward, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. Whatever he sees makes his lips turns downwards. Reaching out, he rests his hand on Steve's knee.

"Belt," Steve grinds out. He wants to push Danny back into his seat but his own fingers are digging into the leather cushions. He can taste blood in his mouth, can smell it in the air. There's a loud buzzing noise in his ears. Looking down at his shirt he expects to see blood stains. There's a voice in his head screaming _I'm dying, Danny._

"Steve. Steven. Look at me, babe."

A hand wraps over his. Steve grabs it and holds on. His breathing is ragged. He can feel sweat pooling at the base of his spine. The only thought in his mind is that Danny's in danger and he needs to help him. Slowly, painfully, he unclenches his hands.

"We're okay." The grip on his hand turns vice-like. "_You're _okay."

The alarm shrieks again. The noise cuts through him, like a bullet through his flesh. "Danny—"

"Look at me." Fingers tap his chin, forcing him to look up. "See?"

Steve blinks. Danny's face is just inches from his. Danny's expression morphs from worried to -mildly-relieved but there's a darkness still behind his eyes. "You with me?"

Steve licks his lips. Suddenly they're very dry. Nodding seems to take an amazing amount of effort but he manages it. He manages to breathe too, dragging in several deep breaths.

Danny lips quirk up in a weak smile. "There you go."

Steve's heartbeat starts to slow. The buzzing in his head reduces to a low hum. Arthritically he unpeels his free hand from the leather cushion. The other hand he keeps wrapped around Danny's. His panic might be furling back down into the pit of his stomach like a slumbering cobra but the memory lingers, sharp and raw.

It's not often he thinks about the plane crash, about when he – and Danny – almost died. He's good at compartmentalising. The scars on his body have faded. He'd hoped that the scars in his mind had faded too.

_Apparently not._

As his panic fades he's suddenly aware he's just had a minor meltdown in front of his team. Embarrassed, he tries to pulls his hand away. Danny bobs his head – half denial, half fond-frustration – and reluctantly lets go. Steve slumps back in his seat. Rubbing his hands over his face, he tries to pull himself together.

Another shriek from the alarm makes Steve look up. They're descending into Honolulu. His responsibility as Head of Five-0 kicks in. Squaring his shoulders, he scans his team to check they're ready for the landing.

One by one, they nod back at him, reassuringly. He can tell they're all trying to pretend they haven't seen anything. The sympathy in their eyes gives them away. He loves them for it even as his cheeks colour with embarrassment.

"Get ready for landing!" the pilot yells from the cockpit. "The tower are bringing us in."

Steve takes another steadying breath. "Copy that," he yells back, checking his belt even though he knows it's already fastened. Sitting back in his chair, his eyes meet Danny's. The knowledge of what they shared that day when the plane crashed is etched on Danny's face. A million thoughts rush across Steve's mind in a second. There's so much he wants to say.

He winks instead.

Danny snorts. Then he rolls his eyes expansively. Beside them, Lou snorts too. A wave of soft, fond laughter ripples through the cabin. The tension lifts, just a little bit.

Steve huffs out a breath. "Let's go home," he tells his team.

H50H50H50H50

The landing is bumpy but they make it down safely. Having a fire truck chase them down the runway adds more excitement that they really don't need. When they finally roll to a stop and pop the door open there's a palpable sense of relief in the cabin.

There's no time to regroup, to take in what's just happened. They're moving: there's still a chance the engine could catch alight. The emergency crews herd them towards safety. A moment later they find themselves sitting on the tarmac, a safe distance away from the plane.

Steve knows he should be doing something but he's frozen. On one side of him he can hear Lou thanking the pilot. Danny's sitting on the other side of him, talking quietly to the rest of the team.

In front of them is their plane. It's illuminated by banks of flashing emergency lights. It doesn't look damaged apart from blood and feathers on one of the engines. The fire crew are peering at it, hoses at the ready.

_We're safe_, Steve tells himself silently. But his brain's got other ideas. He can't remember what happened when Danny landed the plane on the beach but he's seen pictures. And now his brain is overlaying that image onto the one in front of him. Nausea swirls in the pit of his stomach: it had been close that day, _too _close. Danny could have died and Grace and Charlie would have lost their father and he would have lost his…

"Hey, Lou. You okay taking over here? I'm gonna take Steve home."

Danny's leaning across him to talk to Lou. Steve opens his mouth to protest that he's okay. One look at Danny's face tells him he's not fooling anyone. Feeling like an idiot but still quietly grateful, he lets Danny help him to his feet.

"We've got this," Lou reassures him, standing up next to him. "Take some time," he says, bowing his head so the rest of the team can't hear them. "Give me a call if you need to talk."

Steve opens his mouth to say something to Lou, to his team. He should say _something. _But suddenly, in unspoken agreement, they're all nudging him towards the terminal building. Steve's helpless to resist. Once he's got momentum – he really is having difficulty making his legs work – Danny takes over, cupping his elbow and guiding him away with a strong grip.

The next thirty minutes pass in a blur. Steve sits in the passenger seat of the Camaro, staring sightlessly at the passing scenery. The feeling of panic is gradually receding. But his heartbeat is still up and he feels antsy, like he could run a marathon in world-record time. He feels trapped in his body. And out of the corner of his eye – lurking where he can't see them – are the memories of the plane crash. A raw nerve that's suddenly been exposed.

He shivers.

Danny glances over. His expression darkens. "Nearly there," he says quietly, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Steve rouses himself. Danny shouldn't be worrying about him. "Grace. You should be talking to—"

"She's good," Danny cuts in, a familiar note of warning in his tone that tells Steve he's being an idiot. "Did I tell what she's been up to today?" he continues, indicating left, turning the car and talking with his hands, all at the same time.

Steve doesn't answer. He knows Danny's going to tell him anyway - they both need the distraction. And hopefully it'll help put the bad memories back to bed.

H50H50H50H50

It doesn't.

Steve stands in the middle of his living room, feeling awkward and out of place. The table top lamps are throwing long shadows, making it feel like the walls are closing in. Feeling lost, he turns on the spot, his fists jammed into his pockets.

Danny's still standing by the front door, he realises. Lips pursed together, arms crossed, he looks as anxious as Steve feels.

"I'm okay," Steve says automatically. "Really," he insists as Danny shuffles on the spot, un-crossing and crossing his arms again. He takes a step towards Danny, then another. The look on Danny's face is killing him. "Go home, call Grace," he suggests softly, the words sticking in his throat. "It's been a long day."

Danny considers his question. Tilting his head, he sucks at his bottom lip. "You think I'm just gonna leave you here, huh?"

Steve rubs his hand over his hair. "Well…it is my house."

Danny huffs, turns, reaches for the door.

Steve reaches out but he's grabbing empty air. "I'm sorry," he blurts out, desperately back-pedalling: he's not the only one who's had a tough day. Stuttering to a halt, he looks around for inspiration. "Umm…" He shrugs. "I've got steak."

Danny stops. Slowly he turns. "You got steak?"

Steve shuffles. He stares at his shoes. "Yep."

"I gotta cook them, okay?"

Steve looks up, meets Danny eyes. "You saying I'm a bad cook or something?"

Danny smiles – it's weak but it's definitely there. "You, my friend," he announces with a bob of his head, "know nothing about seasoning."

"Right," Steve agrees because Danny's smiling and that smile always does something strange to his heart. Puffing out his cheeks, he tries to release the tension that's still got him strung tight as a bow. Running his palm over his face, he huffs out a breath. "Look, steak sounds good." Real good. "But…um…I need to…I need to go—"

"—swim." Danny grabs his arm. His grip is strong, steading. "I know, babe." He takes a step back. "Go."

Steve hesitates, briefly. Then he throws Danny a grateful smile. He needs to _move. _Taking the stairs up the bedroom two at a time, he goes to get changed.

Taking off his clothes, Steve leaves them lying in a pile on the floor. Grabbing a pair of swim shorts he steps into them. Tying up the cord, he puts a double bow in it – and looks up, into the full-length mirror.

He freezes.

The scar that bisects his chest has almost faded. But sometimes, in the right light, the scarred skin still looks shiny and pink. Tonight is one of those moments. Reaching out, he traces the scar with his fingertip, following it down from his breast bone to his belly button. Then he traces it back up again. He can barely feel it now but the first time he saw it, in the hospital, it had been a ridge of brutalised skin.

Steve shakes his head at the memory, trying to dislodge it from his minds eye. He's too late though: it's already replaying the memory. Suddenly he's back there, back in the moment when the doctor had told him what Danny had done for him. The doctor had to explain it twice before the words started to sink in. It had been another week before he'd got up the courage to look at the scar, to face the reality of what had happened to him…

A floorboard squeaks behind him. Spinning round, he finds Danny frozen mid-step in the doorway.

Danny's got a tea towel draped over his shoulder. He's holding two Longboard beers in one hand. He's pulled out his shirt and undone most of his buttons. That's not unusual, it's how he looks most nights when he comes over for dinner and beers. What catches his eye is Danny's matching scar peeking out between the buttons. His fingers twitch with the urge to touch.

Danny studies him, eyes narrowed. Slowly, deliberately, he places the beers on the bedside cabinet. Then he steps up beside him, nudging him so they're both facing the mirror.

For a moment they look at their reflections, both lost in their memories.

Danny clears his throat. "I'd do it all again. You know that right?"

Steve shakes his head in denial and growing horror. He'll never put Danny in that position again. _Never._

Danny raises his chin. "Yeah. I would."

Steve's heart hitches at Danny's words. The intensity, the _love_, takes his breath away.

Then Danny does something he's never done before. Stretching up on tiptoes, he kisses him on the cheek. It's not mind-blowing, not by a long way. But Danny lingers, applies pressure. When he pulls away his skin's flushed and his eyes are glassy.

Stunned, Steve touches his cheek. "_Danny…_"

Danny studies him for a moment. Whatever he sees must agree with him. He stands up on tiptoe again. "Go swim," he says, his voice ragged. "When you come back, we need to talk."

Steve shivers. Danny's lips had brushed his ear. Before he can say anything Danny's slipping out of the bedroom, two beers back in his hand.

Steve stares at the open door. He feels breathless again. But it's the excitement bubbling in his chest that's robbing him of oxygen, not panic-inducing memories. Gradually, cautiously, he lets himself smile. It's hard to believe this might actually be happening. This thing between him and Danny, they've both been dancing around it for a long, long time.

Amazed, he shakes his head.

Turning to leave, he catches sight of his reflection again. From this angle he can't see his scars. Today's been a painful reminder they're still part of him. But they're part of Danny too.

He knows he shouldn't feel grateful about that and he's not, he's really not. But suddenly the scars, the memories, don't feel so painful.

When he finally dives into the ocean he's wearing his swim shorts and a beaming, happy smile.

The End.


End file.
